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What would you say to yourself as you approach the end of 2018? Have you learnt to be kinder on yourself, to tell yourself that you matter?
My beloved Paromita,
This is a letter to you from me. You can call it a letter to one self, or maybe from your higher self. Last morning when you were walking in the park, a lot of thoughts ran through your mind. It wasn’t a great year. The year felt like a dark tunnel you had to cross. And you did, without complaining. I am so proud of you. Today I write to you with apology and admiration, both so important at the junction that you stand.
I apologize for each time I asked you to shut up to please other people. People pleasing has been such a pattern so many of us carry. I am sorry I made you hold your truth back, just to avoid making someone else uncomfortable. Things did not end up well there. I am sorry for shutting that voice down. People aren’t important enough to constantly play the minnow so that they let you into their circle. Suffering is not a virtue. It never was. I am sorry for the suffering. I owe this apology to you.
I am sorry for the last time when you would not pronounce your whole name to a man. You were afraid that he might Google you (which would eventually happen) and that he would feel intimidated. You did not want him to read the thoughts that you write. You were scared of being the ‘too much’ woman. Remember when ‘H’ asked you to send a piece of your writing, you meekly said, that you would once you got to know each other? You were scared that he might think that you are showing off. But even in his bio-data, he wrote about all his achievements. You just gently put your education and livelihood and not a word about anything else. I am sorry I thought that love equals silence at times or playing small. I apologize for it. I really do. I am sorry I almost made you apologize for the light you bring.
I am sorry for the times I convinced you to give to others when you, yourself were depleted. Remember the day you were so sick but your ex-friend would not stop talking about her problems? Your health, finances, and life, everything was failing you, but I convinced you to be a good person and still be there for others. The others who only sipped from your cup but never filled a drop. I apologize for that phase in life, which finally led you to bed rest. You are already good. You don’t have to give to others who don’t even deserve a bite just to hang on to the “good person” label. Virtues don’t need anyone’s approval. They can alone stand the test of time.
I apologize for the times I called you ugly, lazy and unworthy and made you take a lesser deal. As ‘A’ tells you, “we pick the lowest hanging fruit.” I deeply apologize for pushing you to the edge and not giving you enough rest. I apologize for comparing you to others. And finally, for making you sick.
To you, I owe my deepest apology.
But maybe that is how evolution happens. Each hurt. Each scar brings home a lesson. And I so admire how you stitch your scars and embroider them like an ancient love story worth envy. It’s not easy. But on so many nights you toiled through them and created designs out of the battle scars. That is endurance.
This October, you felt at an all time low. You were almost heartbroken by the end of you. Remember the night you wept, but the very next day, you went out and performed for the LGBTQ community? That was your hardest performance. You were almost devastated until you entered the venue, but once you were there, you belonged to that space. And you did not miss a beat. That is courage. Sometimes just standing up to another day takes courage. You stood up to it. I admire you for that.
This year you wanted things to work out. And somewhere you believed it would. But it just did not. It almost fell apart. But you hang on. Hosted people. Congratulated others on their glories. You did not become bitter or angry. You understood that no one else is responsible for your sufferings. And you owe no explanations to anyone. You put on your red lipstick and smiled through it. That’s grace. I am so proud of it.
This is how life comes to us. Some years we dance. Some we mourn. Some we heal. And some we shine. As ‘M’ told you last time, “It wasn’t your time. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” This was not your year. And therein lies all closure. You owe no explanation for living your destiny.
This year you did what you never did. You said No to a thousand things. To meetings. To work. And most importantly to that voice of yours that asks you to choose lesser than you deserve. You wrote very less this year, because you felt tired. Said no to so many opportunities. Gave up the need to be constantly happy and inspiring. And telling people that you can’t be there this time. I applaud you for this. I takes so much to say no to things you always wanted.
I love the woman you are becoming. I love the way you hardly give in to provocation. And how you let go of people who wanted to leave. You did not demonise them or victimise yourself. Sometimes the journey is over midway. May be it’s until here the journey was meant to be. And what’s yours will come to you, even if it is the roundabout way, as Iyanla would say. Sometimes people rest before rejoining you. Sometimes they leave until you meet them on the other side. It’s grace to accept their choice to leave. This year you showed it and how!
2019 is just about here. This year is packed with miracles and joy. And when love comes, stand in your light. Light will bring in light. And this time he won’t leave. You have my word on it.
Love and more,
N.B: Just wanted to remind you of these lines which are from your favourite book. “We are not going in circles, we are going upwards. The path is a spiral; we have already climbed many steps.” ― Hermann Hesse , Siddhartha
Image via Unsplash
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Proud Indian. Senior Writer at Women's Web. Columnist. Book Reviewer. Street Theatre - Aatish. Dreamer.
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